


Where Did Your Heart Go

by ohnoooooo



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Billy is Trying to Find Himself, Billy is sometimes still a butthead, Bisexual Steve, Bisexual Steve Harrington, But theyre trying to be better, Dyslexia, Eventual man sex, Gay Billy Hargrove, HIV/AIDS, HOORAY, Homophobia, Isnt that why were all here, Letters, Love Letters, M/M, Neither of our main boys get it its just a warning, Pining, Post-Canon, Post-High School, Racism, San Francisco, Steve is sometimes still a butthead, You cant talk about being gay in the 80s without talking alittle about HIV/AIDS, billy's past racism, endgame billy/steve, gay billy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-16
Updated: 2019-01-07
Packaged: 2019-09-20 08:28:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17019222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohnoooooo/pseuds/ohnoooooo
Summary: After graduating, Steve goes to Indiana State and Billy drives to San Francisco and doesn't look back. Except he does, just a little bit. Before he knows what's happening he's writing letters to Steve Harrington, and the two boy are more honest with each other and themselves than they have been in a long time. I write Billy's letters and the main fic, and my amazing RP partner writes Steve's letters. I hope you enjoy.





	1. Let's Hear It For The Boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After graduating, Steve goes to Indiana State and Billy drives to San Francisco and doesn't look back. Except he does, just a little bit. Before he knows what's happening he's writing letters to Steve Harrington, and the two boys are more honest with each other and themselves than they have been in a long time. I write Billy's letters and the main fic, and my amazing RP partner writes Steve's letters. I hope you enjoy.

_Dear Steve,_   
_  
Hey. I’m sure you weren’t expecting to hear from me, right? I mean you probably already threw this letter in the garbage and I’m writing this shit for nothing. But just in case you didn’t, you probably want to know how I got your address, right? I’m not stalking you or nothing, I just got off the phone with Max, and she told me you started at Indiana State. That’s awesome, man. Good for you._

 _Max might have told you, but I went back to California. Got in my car the day after graduation and drove. I’m in the Bay Area right now, and fuck this sounds weird since we’re not even friends, but I wish you could see it, man. I’m sharing a house with like four other dudes, and when I wake up in the morning I can climb up onto my roof and smoke a cigarette, and it’s real foggy here, not as hot as where Max and I used to live. I don’t know if I ever told you, but we used to live in Santa Barbara, before we got dragged to Hawkins. Anyway, there’s all this fog here, it’s colder than down south but still so freaking beautiful, and you can watch the sun rise through the fog and it’s fucking beautiful, man._ _  
_

_Anyway, you’re probably wondering why I’m writing you, and to be honest with you dude, I don’t really know. Max and I are cool now, I don’t know if she told you that. But I guess I’m just writing to say sorry. For everything. I’m sorry for punching your face in, and being a dick to you in school. I was all fucked up and I took it out on you. And that doesn’t make it better, but things have been a lot better for me since I moved back to California, and I feel like now it’s important to let you know that I never hated you. And I fucked up by being such a dick to you._

_My mom died like a year before we moved to Hawkins. Which isn’t an excuse or whatever, but I was still really messed up over that. Like, my mom died of cancer, and six months later, I’m not even shitting you six months later, my dad married Susan and her and Max moved into our house, and then a couple months after that we were leaving California to go to fucking shitty-ass Indiana. No offense. But I wish you could see California, then you’d understand. They have strawberries here as big as your hand. Then again, maybe you’ve been to California? I don’t know you that much man. If you haven’t been, you should go one day, okay? Then again you guys had a pool so I bet your parents were totally rich enough for a Disney vacation when you were a kid, right? Actually, maybe they were rich enough for Disney World. In that case, California is far superior to Florida, and Disneyland is the original Disney so you should for sure still go to California._

_I’m working as an apprentice for a mechanic at the moment. You probably hate me and you’re probably not going to write back, but if you do, tell me what college is like. Sometimes I think I would kind of like college, you know? I’m sure you remember my keg stands._

_Anyway, I’m sorry, King Steve. I hope you’re killing it in college. I know you are._

 

 _Yours,_   
  
_Billy Hargrove_   


 

Billy folded up the sheets of lined paper and slipped them into an envelope. It was probably stupid, writing to Steve, but Max had been talking about it and Billy couldn’t help but think about all the shit he’d been trying to do since he moved - getting himself right, getting it right with Max. Steve seemed like a piece of the puzzle. He was just licking a stamp and putting it on the envelope when one of his housemates, Chris, knocked on his door and lounged against the frame.   
  
“Hey baby Fruit, we’re going to The Stud tonight, you in?”   
  
Billy rolled his eyes and looked over at his roommate, who was wearing mascara and a mesh shirt. “Really Chris, I’m the fruit here?”   
  
“One of many, honey. And you’re the babiest gay in the house, so you can suck it up. Are you coming tonight?”   
  
“Yeah, for sure.” Billy licked  stamp and put it on his letter, and then stood up. “When are we leaving?”   
  
Chris arched an eyebrow, “You’re wearing that? Are you even going to shower?”   
  
Billy looked down at his ripped jeans and black wife-beater. “What? A bunch of guys at The Stud wear stuff like this.”   
  
“Yeah, but they wear it on _purpose_ .”   
  
“So do I!”   
  
Chris laughed and snatched the letter out of Billy’s hand before he could say anything. “Oh, who’s Steve Harrington? He sounds hot.”   
  
“Would you stop?” Billy snatched the letter back. “He’s just some guy I went to highschool with. It’s not a big deal.” The letter was kind of crinkled now, so he grunted and tried uselessly to smooth it out on his thigh. He gritted his teeth when he saw that his sweaty hands were smudging the address, and let out a frustrated sound before putting the letter back on his night stand.   
  
Chris was smirking. “Some guy you had a crush on in high school or what?”   
  
Billy’s face colored. “Something like that.”   
  
Chris hummed. “You’re going to tell me about this later, honey. Now shower, and change into something…” He waved his hand. “Change into something.”   
  
Billy rolled his eyes, but he still grabbed his towel and headed for the bathroom.

  


He’d almost forgotten about the letter until Chris walked into his room a week later. “Billllyyyyyy,” he called, and Billy groaned and rolled over, looking at the other man with one eye still squeezed shut.   
  
“Dude, what the fuck?”   
  
Chris pulled back Billy’s sheets and slid into bed next to him, putting his chin on Billy’s shoulder. Billy could feel his curly dark hair tickling his cheek. “I’ve got a present for you.”   
  
Billy snorted. “Nice try, Chris, but I’m not interested.”   
  
“Not interested in this?” Chris waved a letter in front of Billy’s face, and after the third time or so a corner of the envelope hit Billy’s eye.

 

“Ow!” He turned around to yell at Chris, and then he realized what he’d been hit with and snatched the letter quickly. “Get out of my bed, Chris.”  
  
“Aw, I can’t read your letter from your boyfriend in...Indiana? Oh my God, honey. You’re in San Francisco. You cannot waste your time on a long-distance relationship with someone in Indiana.”   
  
“He’s not my boyfriend! Get the fuck out of my bed!” Billy shoved until Chris fell out of the bed, taking half of Billy’s sheets with him. He chuckled, and peered over the side. “And since you woke me up, go make me some coffee, asshole.”   
  
“Bitch!” Chris left the bedroom, stretching on his way out. As soon as Chris was gone, Billy ripped open the letter and started to read.

 

_Dear Billy,_

 

_It’s okay. We’re okay._

 

_That’s what I wish someone had told me when I had my ah-ha moment. I don’t know if it was like that for you, but I had some things happen that just kind of opened my eyes. I looked around at myself and I thought, wow. I’m a huge douchebag. That didn’t feel good. I wish I’d been ballsy enough to apologize upfront about it. Maybe then it would have been easier to change and stick with it, you know?_

_It’s been tough to stick with it. This sounds like a total brag, but I’m not messing around. The girls here on campus are wild. It’s like, they got away from their parents and birth control is free at the clinic, and it would be so easy to just go back to saying whatever you need to say. I’m sure you know what I mean. Isn’t the Bay Area like San Francisco? Like free love?_

_Nice guys finish last, is what I’m saying. I know that’s not always true, and it’s worth it, and whatever, but being an asshole gets you ahead. So stopping is really hard, and they don’t have AA Meetings for guys like us. It’s all water under the bridge now, but I did hate you. You’re the new guy, and you’re good at basketball, and you were a jerk. Feels good to say it, instead of just thinking it loudly into the back of your head during practice. But we’re good, like I said._

_Aside from the girls, college actually kind of sucks. I’m taking this pre-accounting class and it’s like every college story you got warned about in high school. I have like twelve hours of homework a week, and the professor is this little old lady who writes in a slant on the board. My calculator cost like half a month’s rent, and even when I use it I have to show my work. So what’s the fucking point? That’s my bitch fest for this letter._

_Other than the classes, things are okay. I’m meeting new people. Looking for a club on campus, but haven’t found one I like yet. The food sucks. The weather is starting to really suck. I wish I was in California so bad._

_My dad always said you could pay for a good house or you could pay for good weather, and sunshine never gains equity. So we lived out in fucking Hawkins, and I’m still dreaming of the sun. I’ll get out to California someday. I’d rather Santa Barbara than the Bay Area, though, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’ve seen Full House, and I’m not impressed. I want to swim in the ocean and just let everything roll off my back. You know I’ve never seen the ocean? Any ocean. You’re way better traveled than me._

_This got kind of long and weird, but I’m not rewriting it. I’m glad you’re doing better. I owe Max a call too, but she might have to settle for a letter too. And in college, no one cares who you were in your piss ant town in the middle of nowhere. It’s just Steve now._

 

_Best,_

_Steve “Just Steve” Harrington_

 

Billy’s fingers trembled slightly as he read. These were Steve’s words - his actual words, without all the hormonal swagger they’d spat at each other all year. Steve said he’d never been to the ocean, and Billy shook his head. He couldn’t imagine it. If there was one thing he missed about Santa Barbara, it was exactly what Steve said - _I want to swim in the ocean and just let everything roll off my back -_ Billy closed his eyes for a moment and pictured Steve in the warm waters of the Pacific, beads of moisture rolling down his back as he stretched, muscles shifting under his pale, slightly freckled skin. He cleared his throat. Probably not a good thing to be thinking about with Chris about to burst back into his room any minute. And anyway, the ocean was just a short drive away, and Billy could go to the beach whenever he liked.   
  
There was a reason Billy had come to San Francisco, and not gone back to Santa Barbara. The same reason Neil eyed him up and beat him if he wore his earring or cared too much about his hair. The same reason he couldn’t stop thinking of Steve Harrington with ocean water running down his back.

 

Billy had known he was gay since he was 13 years old. He hadn’t known what to call it, but he’d known what he was, and he’d known that not everyone else seemed to be that way. No one else fantasized about the high school boy who worked in the surf shop on the boardwalk, or got jealous when their male friends kissed girls at school dances. No one else faked it when they took girls on dates, and wished for the scratch of stubble when they kissed them in the back of borrowed cars. No, Billy had known what he was for a long time. And so when the time had come to go back to California, Billy knew right away where he wanted to go. He had some cash saved up, and he scrimped and saved as much as he could on the long journey back to Cali, sleeping in his car more often than not, until he reached San Francisco, and more specifically the Castro. He’d known about it after he’d seen the Pride parade on TV one year, and Neil had rolled his eyes and spat “Fucking faggots!” at the screen, before looking over at Billy to gauge his reaction. Billy had sneered and sucked on his cigarette, all the while storing the name of the place in his head. _The Castro The Castro The Castro._

  
He’d gotten lucky when he first arrived. There were lots of little lost gay boys in San Francisco trying to find themselves, Billy had met a lot of them his first week there, staying at the same YMCA. But he had enough saved for a deposit on a room, and he’d met Chris and his friends at a gay bar, and luckily for him, they thought he was funny. The punk rock little queer with the mullet and a sad backstory. Billy had stared the first few days he’d moved in with them, walking around the Castro, seeing Chris and Enrique and Karl and Bobby hold hands with other guys like it was nothing; kiss other guys like it was nothing. Of course it wasn’t all perfect. Even in San Francisco, there were homophobes. If they wandered too far outside their neighborhoods there was still a hiss of ‘faggot’ and ‘queer’ that tended to follow them. But they had a place, they had a place and they fucking _owned_ it. And Billy had no regrets.   
  
Well, almost no regrets. He turned Steve’s letter over in his hands and tried to ignore the words that seemed to scream out at him. Girls. Free birth control. Steve was obviously having at least a little fun at Indiana State. And yeah, Billy had never really expected Steve to be queer, like him, but…   
  
Chris would say he was crazy. Chris already thought he was crazy. Billy was, according to Chris, hot stuff, and all he’d done since he got to San Francisco was kiss a few guys and dance with them at bars. But it wasn’t because of Steve, at least not totally. Billy just...still couldn’t believe this place was real.   
  
The door to his room banged open and Chris stood there, holding out a mug of coffee. “‘Rique’s making huevos rancheros,” he said, “you gonna stay in bed all day, or do you wanna come down and eat?”   
  
Billy put Steve’s letter in his night stand.   
  
“I’m coming.”


	2. Jump

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Billy plays some basketball, and waits.

_Dear Just Steve,_  
_  
Thanks for writing back. To be honest I’m kind of surprised that you did. But that’s cool that you did. College sounds fun, even if it’s difficult. At least that’s what I got from your letter after I interpreted it. Anyone ever tell you that you have shitty handwriting, dude? Just kidding. I mean not really, but I could read your letter fine._

  _Yeah, I’m in San Francisco. City of free love etc. etc. I’m also a twenty minute drive from the beach so you can still do all that shit you said. Let the water roll off your back. I mean it’s about to be fall so soon it’ll be too cold, but the beaches are still beautiful to go to. I can’t believe you’ve never seen the ocean. If you ever go make sure you remember every little thing about the first time you see it,_ _so you can tell me_ _._  
  
_I know what you mean, about there being no AA for guys like us. Like I feel so much better since I’ve been here, and I’ve made some really good friends, but sometimes I have to remind myself that I don’t have to be an asshole. It’s still my first instinct, you know? Shoot someone down, yell at them, get up in their face. I joined this local basketball group here (nothing serious, just a group that plays for fun) and I think the first week they were pretty close to kicking me out. My friend Enrique ended up confronting me about it over coffee and eggs (this guys makes amazing eggs), and I couldn’t even believe that he’d taken the time to be so damn nice to me about me acting like a real asshole. But it’s a little bit easier to be better when you’re around people that care about you, and when Neil fucking Hargrove isn’t breathing down my neck. I still worry about Max. She’s getting older and mouthier and Neil’s not gonna put up with it for a super long time. It’s good she has all those goofy kids to help her. Sinclair and the rest._  
  
_Speaking of...do you have Sinclair’s address? I don’t want to ask Max for it because it’s still kind of a touchy subject with us, but I owe that kid an apology. Like, a huge one._  
  
_It’s not an excuse, but Neilis racist as shit. And when Max started hanging around Sinclair I got real fucking worried. Like when Neil is pissed about something the whole house is a nightmare. And he can’t get super pissed at Max because she’s Susan’s and not his, but he could get pissed at me because I’m his kid, and I should have kept her away from a black guy. Basically. God it all sounds so fucked up when I say it. Or write it. Whatever._  
  
_Good for you with all your girls at college. Sounds like you’re swimming in it. Ha. Don’t worry about the work stuff, you’ll get it, right? Just write down whatever you do on your expensive calculator and get on with it. You’ll be fine. I always really liked math._  
  
_Being a mechanic’s apprentice has been interesting. The pay is super shitty - but I’m lucky to find a paid apprenticeship at all, so that’s good. I work in a bar a couple night a week as well so I make some extra cash that way, plus free drinks, which is nice. And most of my friends go drinking there so we get to hang out after I get off work. Do you have a job? Or are you just concentrating on school or whatever?_  
  
_I’m assuming you’re going back to Hawkins for Thanksgiving. Would you do me a favor and check in on Max for me? Just make sure she’s doing okay? She doesn't always like to talk on the phone about anything other than skateboards and fucking DnD._  
  
_You’ll always be King Steve to me, haha._  
  
_Yours,_  
_  
_ Billy

 

Billy was disappointed when, 2 weeks later, he still hadn’t heard from Steve. And it made him feel angry, the same kind of hot-behind-the-eyes angry that he used to get when Steve would ignore him in school, which was stupid, because they weren’t friends, they never were, so why would Steve even care enough to write him back? Why did he even care about what King Steve thought anyway? Some straight dude from Indiana shouldn’t even be a blip on his radar when he was in San Francisco surrounded by some of the most beautiful men he’d ever seen. But still, he couldn’t stop thinking about Steve, with his stupid fucking hair and his long fingers, and his smile that made his eyes crinkle.  
  
“Chris!” Billy ran down the stairs, already in his basketball shorts and nothing else, “Did you pull my laundry out of the fucking dryer again?”  
  
“He says you overdry it,” Enrique said from the kitchen island, where he was drinking a cup of coffee.  
  
“Well now my shirts are all wet and I’m supposed to go to fucking basketball.”  
  
Enrique shrugged. “Go like that. Hottie. Don’t you usually end up playing shirtless anyway?”  
  
Billy grunted. “That’s not the point.” He had other shirts, but he wanted that one specific one. Why couldn’t anything ever go his fucking way?  
  
He ended up rolling into basketball practice half an hour late, and angry, and hot-tempered before the game had even begun. He played aggressively, even though it was just practice, and he could see the team captain eyeing him. He’d already been spoken to once about his temper, and he knew that he could get kicked off the team pretty easily. This was a team that played for fun, just a bunch of gay guys who liked basketball and played other gay guys who liked basketball. The swagger that the thing had in high school didn’t exist here. So when they took five to hydrate and rest, Billy sidled over to the captain and cleared his throat.  
  
“Ray,” he said quietly, “can I talk to you for a second, man?”  
  
Ray nodded, wiping the sweat off his brow. He was, objectively, a gorgeous specimen of a man, with soft-looking brown skin, dark eyes, and a meticulous buzzcut which Billy knew for a fact he got touched up every week. Billy swallowed, watching the sweat beads roll down Ray’s shoulders, and then spoke again.  
  
“I’m real fucked up today, man,” he said honestly, “over some stupid shit...I think maybe I should head home and come to the next practice.”  
  
Ray tilted his head. “This over a guy?”  
  
Billy’s face colored and he stared at the ground. “Sorta. It’s dumb.”  
  
Ray nodded. “Let’s get drinks later.”  
  
Billy looked up, his eyebrows rising in surprise. “What?”  
  
“Let’s get drinks later,” Ray repeated, “and you can tell me about the asshole who’s ruining your game.” He tossed Billy a water bottle. “And you’re not leaving. I know you can pull it together, Billy.”  
  
Billy looked at the cold bottle of water in his hand, and then at Ray’s retreating back as he went to rally the rest of the guys, and nodded.

  


“So,” Ray pushed a cold beer across the table to Billy two hours later, “what’s going on?”  
  
Billy and Ray were both still hot and sweaty from practice, and Billy drained half of the cool beer before he felt brave enough to speak. But Ray was looking at him, with his dark, sympathetic eyes, and Billy sighed.  
  
“Well” he said “it’s really stupid, but...I’ve written to this guy I knew in high school. Just a couple times. And he hasn’t written me back after the first time.”  
  
Ray bit his lip. “Okay...trying to stay sympathetic here...but that does sound kind of stupid.”  
  
Billy laughed. “No, it is man, but basically...I mean. I bullied him. Like, really fucked with him. I even beat his face in. And all because I couldn’t...I couldn’t _stand_ how much I wanted him. Some dumbass straight rich kid. He’s in college right now. And I saw his grades, man...it’s like. I wanted him and I was jealous of him. So I treated him like shit. And you know what the worst part was?”  
  
Ray shook his head. “What?”  
  
“He was a really, really good guy. I mean he is. He looked after my little sister, and all her kid friends. Used to be a total asshole and then turned his life around. Was apparently super good to his girlfriend who then cheated on him. He was a really nice guy. And I just...I wanted…”  
  
“You liked him,” Ray supplied.  
  
“Yeah,” Billy said sadly, “I really fucking liked him.”  
  
“Oh Billy,” Ray sipped at his own beer, “You wouldn’t be the first guy to fall for a straight boy. But you don’t need to be so upset about it.”  
  
“I know,” Billy sighed, “but...I was such a shitty person to him. It felt good to get a nice letter. To feel like maybe he forgave me.”  
  
Ray shifted closer to Billy. “Maybe you need to work on forgiving yourself.” His hand closed over Billy’s, and Billy felt his breath catch in his throat.  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
Ray pressed his lips to his, and Billy groaned, leaning into the other man. He smelled of sweat, salt, and cocoa butter, and Billy’s stomach fluttered and Ray’s strong hand grabbed at his waist. When Ray probed at Billy’s lips with his tongue, Billy parted them readily and brought his hand up to cup Jay’s face.  
  
“Oh,” he breathed when they broke apart, and smiled at the breathless look on Ray’s face.  
  
“Don’t get hung up on straight boys,” Ray said quietly, and Billy nodded, pulling him in for another kiss.

  


When Billy got home, there was a letter waiting for him.

 

_Dear Billy,_

 

_Actually, every teacher I’ve ever had told me my handwriting sucks. I used to slip “suck my root” into the middle of sentences for my papers for Mrs. Turnbull, and she never caught on to me. Which is a good thing, because I totally would have gotten expelled, now that I think about it. Literally never occurred to me before right now. Huh._

 

_Well, anyway, I hope you can pick your way through my terrible suck my root handwriting. I would hate for this to be a burden for you, getting this letter. That would blow._

 

_So, I have some good news and some bad news. Bad news first, like cough medicine. Afterwards the good._

 

_Sinclair doesn’t want any apologies from you. He wants you to leave him the hell alone. I’m sorry. I talked to him today, actually. I gave Dustin a call for his birthday and of course everyone was there. So I got Lucas on the phone and asked him about it, and he said no. It surprised me, but here’s what I think._

 

_For you and me, last spring was a million years ago. You moved back to California. I went to college. We’ve changed a lot and not just because we wanted to. Everything that happened is old news, but for them it was just a few months ago. They’re still kids, they don’t really get it. Not like we do. So try not to take it too hard, okay?_

 

_The good news is Max seems to be doing fine. She was right in the thick of things, and couldn’t wait to get me off the phone so she could get back to whatever the hell they were all doing. She’ll be okay. I did tell her, if anything ever happens with Neil,  she can tell me. I don’t know if she would, but I think it’s good that she knows she could. I hope it is._

 

_Sorry for the delay with writing back, but I didn’t have much to say before I got in contact with them all. Now that we’re closing in on Halloween, I think I’m getting a better grip on life. I’ve joined and quit French Club and the Debate Team here at state. I’m not even good enough to really get into the pickup games here, it’s like everyone and their brother was on the varsity basketball squad. Your roommate sounds nice. My roommate is named Horace MacKinnon, and he snores so loud the windows rattle._

 

_All things considered, I’m doing just fine. I hope to get a job next semester, or at least over the summer. I wanted to take an easy semester to ease into everything. I went to my first party with real, actual kegs and thought of you. You’d have beaten all the freshmen, but there’s some seniors here who must have the liver of a sixty year old wino, because fuck. I’m in awe._

 

_I’ll let you know how Hawkins in when I go back next month, if there’s anything to report at all. The more things change, the more they stay the same. I wonder if anything exciting will happen while I’m back? I hope not… and I hope so._

 

_Best,_

_Steve_

  
Billy read the letter over a few times, his stomach clenching when he read the news about Lucas. He thought about Ray. About the man’s warm hand on his, and his beautiful skin, and how he’d held him while they kissed.  
  
And then he shoved Steve’s letter in his nightstand drawer.


	3. Seperate Lives

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve is surprised by Billy's letter. Billy is surprised by Steve's letter.

_Dear Suck my Root,_

 

_Your letters aren’t a burden. Max wrote like shit too and Neil used to make me check her homework, so I’m well-practiced._

_Thanks for talking to Sinclair for me. I get that he doesn’t want to talk to me. I wouldn’t want to either, but at least he knows that I’m sorry. Which I guess is the best I can hope for at this point. Not everyone’s going to forgive you, right? Anyway, is he still dating my sister? If he is, make sure he treats her nice, and I hope that Neil never finds out, for her sake. And his._  
  
_I’m sorry it took me so long to write back, but I figured you’d be busy with Thanksgiving anyway. How did that go? Was your visit back to Hawkins as eventful and uneventful as you wanted? That was a weird sentiment to leave on, man. I guess I kind of knew what you meant, though._

 _We did Thanksgiving here. My roommate Enrique, I think I’ve told you about him, but he’s an awesome cook. He works in a restaurant. And he’s from Mexico so he made all this awesome Mexican food plus a turkey, which sounds like it should be wrong, but it’s not. And my other roommate Chris who’s also like my best friend or whatever, and I’m only writing that because he’s reading this letter over my shoulder, he works in a wine store so we got DRUNK on really expensive wine. Which I never thought I liked wine, but this shit was pretty awesome. Then the club I work in opened up for the night and we went out dancing, and it was honestly the best fucking Thanksgiving I’ve ever had. I highly suggest not spending Thanksgiving with your family. It makes it way better._  
  
_I also spent the holiday with my boyfriend. So. That’s something you know about me now. I’m not even sure why I’m telling you. Except I guess I want someone from Hawkins to know, and you’re the closest thing I have to a friend from there now. I’d tell Max, but I’m freaked out that she’d tell Neil, and she knows my address, and he can get information out of anyone._  
  
_So, I’m queer. And you can do with that information anything you want. If you never want to write to me again, I get it. But it feels good to say it to people who aren’t my roommates. I’m gay, Steve. And I used to be really fucking angry about it. And now I’m really happy. I hope you’re happy too. It’s not worth it, being unhappy._  
  
_My boyfriend’s name is Ray, and Neil wold fucking hate him._  
  
_Bye Steve. Probably for the last time._  
  
_Yours,_  
_  
Billy_

 

“Did you write it?” Ray was lounging on Billy’s bed, his shirt already off. Billy glanced over and saw the light glancing of Ray’s smooth skin and smiled.  
  
“Yeah, I did. I still don’t know if it’s a good idea.”  
  
“It’s closure,” Ray opened his arms, and Billy found himself leaving the letter on his desk and drifting into them, humming at the feel of Ray’s warm arms around him. “Closure with that guy, but also closure with...that part of your world. You didn’t come out to your dad, for what seems like pretty obvious reasons,” Billy shifted a little and Ray shook his head, “it’s okay, you don’t have to tell me...we all have dad stuff.” He tucked a piece of Billy’s hair behind his ear, and Billy felt something warm bloom in his chest. “And I know you said you don’t want to tell your sister, but now...you’ve told someone from Indiana. You know?”  
  
“Well,” Billy nuzzled at Ray’s cheek, “I still have to send the letter.”  
  
Ray grinned. “Well, I think you need to do something else first.” His hand snuck around and squeezed Billy’s ass. Billy chuckled and rolled on top of Ray, and then pressed his lips to the taller man’s, humming into his soft lips as he slipped his leg between Ray’s.  
  
“Billy!” Chris opened the door and Billy groaned.  
  
“Dude! _Go away_ . And don’t just bust in here without knocking!”  
  
Chris smiled. “Hey Ray - you look comfortable.”  
  
“Hey Chris...I gotta second the knocking thing, man.” But Ray was smiling.  
  
“What’s up?” Billy rolled off Ray and propped himself on his elbow.  
  
“Are you working tonight? Because if not the guys and I were thinking of going out and wanted to know if you guys want to come.”  
  
“Nah, we’re good.” Billy looked down at Ray. “We’re gonna stay in.”  
  
“Gross, love you,” Chris left the room and Billy laughed.  
  
“Now,” he nuzzled into Ray’s neck, “where were we?”

 

What Billy didn’t expect was a quick answer from Steve. Less than four days after he sent his letter, there was another one sitting on his kitchen table. Chris was sitting there too, in his underwear, eating a slice of cold pizza and drinking an iced coffee.  
  
“Did you leave the house for that coffee, or is that leftover from yesterday?”  
  
“Drunk Chris took care of me,” his roommate replied, “I bought it on the way home last night and put it in the fridge for this morning. Go drunk Chris!”  
  
Billy pulled a carton of orange juice out of the fridge and eyed Chris’ pizza. “Dude, I hate your metabolism. You don’t even work out.”  
  
“Whatever, Adonis. Looks like the basketball and sex with your hottie boyfriend keeps you in plenty good shape.” He gestured at the table. “And it looks like you got a letter from your Indiana boyfriend too. Karl brought the mail in.”  
  
Billy blinked. “It’s been like...three days. He wrote back fast.”  
  
Chris batted his eyelashes. “Somebody likes you.”  
  
Billy swallowed. “No, Chris, shut up...I came out to him. Steve’s this straight guy I knew from high school and I _came out to him_ because Ray said it would give me closure or whatever and I _listened_ to him but fuck man, I bullied this guy in school and then I told him I was gay and we still have friends in common, he knows my _sister_ -”  
  
“Billy,” Chris stood up and took him by the shoulders. “I am way, _way_ too hungover for this, and you need to calm down.” Chris’ face softened and he rubbed his hand up and down Billy’s arms, “Billy...you’re not the same person you were when you went to high school. You’re not even the person you were when you first moved in with us three months ago. Then you were an angry little closet case with a bad mullet and an even worse attitude.”  
  
Billy let out a huff of laughter, and then frowned. “Dude, I still have the mullet.”  
  
Chris smiled and stroked his cheek. “But your attitude is miles better.” He tapped Billy’s nose with his finger. “Read your letter. If he’s an ass, fuck him. If he’s not an ass...well, maybe still fuck him.”  
  
Billy rolled his eyes. “I’m with Ray, remember?”  
  
Chris chuckled and picked up his iced coffee. “Oh right, I just thought there were a couple of angry cats in your room last night.”

 

Billy pinched Chris’ ass. “Don’t hate me ‘cause you’re jealous.” He picked up the letter, and his orange juice, and made his way upstairs to his room. The first thing he noticed is that it was short.

   
---  
  
_Dear Billy,_

 

_I really don’t know what to say. I really thought you were straight. I mean, the posing, the comments. Was that all just a cover for you? You didn’t look disgusted when we all talked about girls. You didn’t stare at us in the locker rooms. What, were none of us good enough for you?_

_But okay, I guess. I’m not like my parents, or everyone, you know. Like, my dad’s called it San Fran-Sicko and that’s just rude. I wouldn’t do shit like that. I’m a cool guy, it’s all fine. There are some people on campus who are pretty open about it, and everything. They have an unofficial club, and they say it’s all like wild benders and stuff. You’d like it!_

_Seriously, though, when did you know? I mean we’ve all seen a lot of guys without shirts, but none of the rest of us went all the way that, you know? Like did you ever like girls at all?_

_I’m glad that you found some roommates who don’t mind it. Sounds like they’re pretty cool._

 

_Yours,_

_Steve_

 

Billy blinked. He didn’t know what he expected, but it wasn’t the...mess on the page in front of him. Then again, maybe he should have. Steve had always been a mess in school, and this letter wasn’t far off. He read the letter again, and between the accusations and assertions of coolness, Billy found himself laughing. “Oh Steve,” he said softly, and then he took out another piece of paper and a pen.

 

_Dear Cool Guy,_

 

 _Not super sure how to address your first paragraph. I’ll just take each point at a time, I guess._  
_  
The comments and the posing. Yeah. I mean the whole point was to make you guys think I was straight? And I wasn’t disgusted when you talked about girls because girls aren’t disgusting. I just don’t want to date them. As for none of you guys being good enough...I mean yourself and me excluded, did you see the state of the boys on that team? Gross. Yeah, they weren’t good enough for me. That shitstain town wasn’t good enough for me, or you, or hell, those freaking nerds you hang out with. Hawkins was a dumpster. Even Indiana State has to be better, right?_

 _The gay club at your school sounds cool. I bet I probably would like their wild benders. Our benders in San Francisco are pretty wild too, though. You should check out the gay benders some time, I bet you they’re not that different. Aside from all the guys making out, hahaha._  
  
_Sorry dude, not trying to make you uncomfortable. Your letter kind of made me laugh. I guess you weren’t trying to, but still, it made me laugh._  
  
_In terms of when did I know? I guess maybe for a while? I’m not sure of when I realized it exactly. I always knew that I liked guys in a way that I wasn’t supposed to. I know that sounds weird. Like, when I was a kid, maybe five, I had this best friend, Jimmy. And I freaking loved him. We had sleepovers all the time, and my mom would make us cookies and we slept in sleeping bags, all the normal stuff. But one time my dad caught me hugging Jimmy, and I kissed him on the cheek, so my dad popped me in the mouth and called me a fag. I didn’t even know what a fag was then, but I knew it was bad, and after that Dad wouldn’t let Jimmy spend the night anymore. And ever since then I knew that I could never let my dad know if I liked a boy. It wasn’t until I was like 13 or 14 that I realized that I actually_ _LIKED guys, you know what I mean? And then I knew there was no way I could ever tell anyone. So I tried dating girls, and I had this girlfriend for a while, Donna. My dad didn’t really like her. We dated for like a year, but he always said she was kind of slutty, even though we barely did anything. I had sex with her a couple of times, because she wanted to. And it was okay. I really thought that I could fake it forever, you know? Maybe one day marry Donna and pop out a kid, and never look at guys again._  
  
_And then I met this guy. We used to skate together down on the boardwalk. He was a couple years older, and he was so handsome. You know? I guess you don’t. The kind of person, like imagine a girl who makes your stomach flutter whenever you’re around her. That’s how he was for me. And it was like we both knew, it was a secret. But we ended up drinking together on the beach one night. And then he rolled over and kissed me. And it was like my mind exploded, because it was so much better then it was with Donna. It was amazing. It was perfect._  
  
_It was. But I guess Dad felt like things weren’t good in Cali, or it was too expensive, and he didn’t like my friends. Plus he’d met Susan and he wanted to move away and forget my mom. So we ended up in Hawkins._  
  
_So that was my long ass gay story. About being gay. And that’s how I knew. But good to know you know what a guy without a shirt on looks like. I was a little worried about your grades, buddy._  
  
_By the way, all my roommates are gay too. Two of them are a couple. That’s why they don’t care._  
  
_Stay cool, Stevie._  
_  
Billy._


End file.
